Revenant

On the compact dancefloor, he gyrated crazily, easily exhausting several would-be mates. A lean youth in camo' T-shirt and khaki cut-offs put a blotter on his tongue as he danced. Rayne Wylde drank in the exuberance of the night and writhed to the thumping beat like a dark serpent on the tight skin of a drum, untouched by the chemical kiss of the acid.

In the shadows, on the peripheries, the hunters lurked and watched; sizing up victims; biding their time. This was the most dangerous period. There was so much temptation here; so many young men, single, drunk or wasted. If one slipped away, would they simply follow? Would they be drawn to the kill, congenitally unable to resist the lure, or were they dedicated to the chase? Once they had selected their victim, would they be true to him until his bared flesh was sticky with their sweat and spunk and the blade was caressing his throat?

Under swirling lights, Rayne swung his hips and flirted extravagantly; a black clad, sinuous geisha boy, simultaneously satisfying the mental fantasies of every man who locked eyes with him. He flung his head back, lips parted, dark hair streaming like oil and water around his frenzied features. In that instant he provided a brief, seductive glimpse of what it would be like to have him subside beneath them, writhing in ecstasy; urging them on as they bucked between his widespread thighs.

In turn, he absorbed their fantasies, feeding his sense of purpose with the tide of their desire. In their dreams these men stripped him and sucked him, licked his naked body all over -- on a rug, on the wooden floor of a faceless hall, on a vast bed, up against the wall in an alleyway outside. He was spread and lubed and rimmed and rammed, with fingers, cocks and well-greased fists, on his back and on his knees; in his arse and between his glossy, pouting lips. As he gyrated, they bombarded him with their need until his nipples stood proud against the fine black mesh of his T-shirt and his stiffening sex tented the tight denim of his sable jeans. The Vampire swallowed their hopes and dreams and used them as fuel for his inner fire.

It was late when he scrambled for the doors, alone, pumped up with the heat and lust of over a hundred men. He was rock hard and desperate to feed and masturbate, feverish for the cooler night air, although he no longer needed to breathe it in order to survive. The feast of emotions and desires had awaked his pulse and it was hammering at his throat and chest and in the swollen head of his cock as he made himself stagger onward. His body was in chaos but deep inside that clinical vampire brain, motivation ticked away like a hidden bomb. As he clawed his mock-inebriated way down Princess Street, his emotions slowed and stilled until he was cold and purposeful as ice.

Briefly, he worried that they would not come, but the line had been baited and the nets were ready. Two blocks he stumbled, reeling blindly into doorways and rebounding like a pinball, heading for the bridge over the canal. The silence was eerie at this time of the morning; no people, very little traffic. The occasional cab hurried by and was gone, rattling into the darkness before he could raise his hand.

They caught him there, on the bridge. He heard them coming but did not fight as they snatched his arms and marched him down between them into the darkness beneath that arch of stone. His body exulted at the rough handling. They were going to make this so very easy for him. The car park beyond the canal was deserted, a few derelict revellers still staggered the streets but their voices echoed distantly from the high walls. It was late and cold, a transient time way beyond the last hour of most nightclubs but still too early for the first risers of the morning. Perfect for the kind of assignation these two had in mind.

"Where are you goin' then, eh?" the bigger and burlier of the pair, the one with the nose stud and a tattooed dragon curling up out of the open collar of his shirt, around his thick neck, asked dryly as they steered him beneath the bridge.

"Home... I'm going home..." he feigned bewilderment, looking blankly from one face to the other as if he thought he should know them. His slender body burned with hunger and he rubbed himself against the first speaker wantonly. "Are you going to take me?"

"Oh yeah!" That was the other, the leaner, meaner one with the crucifix pendant. "We're gonna 'take' you all right!"

At once, Rayne sensed the malice in his tone. He could read the dark passions in this man's warped mind. The Vampire was a past master when it came to sex games. He knew full well how 'this' match was played. They would take their time. They could not be rushed. Against one assailant it was easy enough to bring the quarry down and bleed him straight away, but with two you had to wait until the timing was perfect. Even vampires were not completely untouchable in this day and age. It only took a single opponent with the knowledge of what you were to bring you down.

Rayne did not think that this pair were Vampire hunters. Nor were they expecting him to play along quite so readily. Even so, he elected to tread carefully.

"Don't hurt me!" he panted, pretending anxiety as man with the crucifix reached around him, fumbling immediately with the buttons of his fly and rubbing up against his arse. He felt the rapist's erection bulging in his pants; pressing against his bum.

"Why? You're not tryin' to tell me you're a virgin, are you?" the fellow laughed caustically.

"I've never been with two guys together before," Rayne lied, making big eyes at the fellow in front of him since he could not turn his head far enough to meet the speaker's gaze. The big, muscular skinhead grinned at him like death's head. He wore a silver stud in his tongue and a small, silver skull in one earlobe along with the diamond in his nose. There were tattoos a-plenty on his hands and neck; A whip curled around his forearm and he had manacles inked around his wrists with bloody roses twining through them.

"Well tonight we're gonna teach you," he promised, backing up to the wall and gripping Rayne's upper arms tightly, pulling him close as the one with the pendant and the lip piercing, roughly yanked their captive's jeans down to his ankles. The breeze felt cool on his legs and buttocks. Rayne heard the buzz of a zipper behind him, then the ripping sound of foil and plastic and the wet, elastic squelches of a rubber rolled rapidly onto a stiffening cock.

'Can't be too careful'! he thought wryly. These days even a rapist can't be 'too' careful.

Impulsively, he tried to put his arms around the one holding him, rubbing his throbbing sex against the man's powerful thighs. He felt something hard within the right trouser leg that was longer than even his own most lurid fantasies could have predicted. Trapped between the pair of them, he wriggled and keened softly as hot, callused fingers spread his cheeks, pressing on his ring and he was breached none too gently from behind. Years of whoring had taught him to shut it out but the fury burned in him all the same, rising steadily to an inferno as his assailant forced his way in. The initial penetration was clumsy and painful. This man was not interested in pleasuring a male partner, only in satisfying his own lust and humiliating his victim.

Even so, the Vampire put on a show, moaning and panting, trying to get his arms around the guy who restrained him; attempting to kiss him. At last, the thug relented. Rayne's arms looped around his burly neck and he clung on, sucking the fellow's pierced tongue and rubbing urgently against him, gasping and sighing into his mouth as he was savagely used. Rough hands gripped his arse cheeks and hips, pulling him back hungrily onto a fat, rapidly thrusting cock. He moaned involuntarily as it opened him up, then began to pound in and out of his tight hole like a jack-hammer. A sequence of tiny, breathless sounds escaped his throat as he wriggled between the pair, to all intents and purposes, hot, stoned, and eager for both of them.

On the inside, he was colder than ice.

"Hold his arms for me," the one in front grunted now, frustrated and eager for his turn inside their victim. The big, tattooed thug reached down, as his companion's grip moved from Rayne's slender hips and bare bum to close tight just above his elbows. His big tool stilled briefly as he fumbled to restrain their captive before resuming his assault. Briefly, whilst he was still, the Vampire could feel his attacker's rapid, eager pulse deep in his arsehole. It felt so good that his own cock rose steadily in response until it was nodding in time with the thrusts of his mate.

With frantic, shaking hands, the guy in front of him unfastened his fly, releasing a long, purple hard-on, illustrated with writhing vines and a circle of barbed wire inked just beneath the glossy head. He gave it a brisk rub, pulling back the foreskin to squeeze a droplet of pre-cum from the eye of the glans. It was a thick, meaty cock, about eight inches long, nothing to be ashamed of normally. Of course, what he was about to do with it went beyond the bounds of common decency but Rayne Wylde was less concerned by that than he was with his own stratagem. Coarse fingers snarled in the Vampire's dark hair and his head was forced to waist level.

"Open wide faggot," Tattoos instructed him with a little huff of laughter. "It's feeding time."

"I don't know what to do," Rayne lied in a small, tremulous voice.

"Don't you worry about that, you little fairy slut! Just do as you're told and we'll sort you out!" That was the other guy, the tall, lean one with the crucifix. There was no humour in his voice. His fingers were closed tightly around Rayne's slender arms now and he was bucking hard between the Vampire's cheeks again.

He opened his mouth as instructed and at once it was urged onto the tumescent purple crown of his abductor's swollen sex. He inhaled the hot musk and sweat scent of his captor's masculinity, then wrapped his lips obediently around it, nodding and swallowing until it was sheathed to the hilt. Tattoos gripped his hair with both hands and began to fuck his throat. Even though he was skilled in the art of fellatio, Rayne did not have to fake the impulse to gag at first. He could only imagine how this must feel for a young, inexperienced cock-sucker.

"Maybe he's not kidding. He could be virgin," Tattoos panted, rutting away in his captive's face.

"His fuckin' arse is tight enough!" the other grunted appreciatively. He pushed Rayne's hands up higher behind his back, rucking up the young man's dark shirt as he did so and giving himself a good view of his victim's stretched and violated hole. With one hand he held both of the Vampire's skinny wrists in the middle of his back and eased the other down between Rayne's naked thighs. Grabbing the young man's balls he held onto them as he began to hammer his colon harder. "I reckon we're gonna have to fuck him three or four times each to get his little fag hole good and loose enough for both our dicks together. Either that or give him a good hard fisting first!"

Tattoos laughed cruelly at the idea of that. Rayne could feel how the idea of roughly fist-fucking him excited them both. Their pulses were racing and the blood hunger was driving them on blindly. He understood it because, to a certain extent he felt the same when he had a feeder lined up. The only difference was that he rarely hunted to kill, even when ravenous. These bastards got off on the idea of humiliating their frightened victims. Humiliating and slowly murdering them.

His jaws clenched, an involuntary response to the rising fury and impatience within him. Tattoos gave him a good hard blow to the side of his head to warn him off for biting. It was tempting just to chew the fucker's cock off and be done with it, but Rayne forced himself to remember that he was playing a waiting game. He was 'supposed' to be vulnerable; terrified; helpless. Until they actually threatened his life he had no grounds for a physical assault. If he went for their throats now, did that not make him just as low and depraved as they were?

'You mean, you're not'? his conscience sniped before he shut it out.

Maybe other victims would have closed their eyes. To the Vampire, this was just one more small indignity to add to an impressive back-catalogue. The sex was nothing to him, (not that he failed to become aroused as his balls were groped and his g-spot tormented by the incessant thrusting) but he could imagine how an innocent might feel; some naïve kid whose first physical experience this might be. First 'and' last! He seethed inwardly at the very idea of it even as his cock leaked a steady trickle of cum.

Whilst he was sucking and licking his attacker's magnificent cock, Rayne paid close attention to everything around him. Impressive as the tool in his mouth was, it certainly had not been the object he felt whilst rubbing himself up and down Tattoos' leg. He focused now on the other item of elongated stiffness in his abductor's pants. Writhing between them, moaning softly in the back of his throat, he fellated the one and urged his bared cheeks frantically into the thrusting crotch of the other. All the while he kept one eye on the handle of the machete sheathed within the belt-line of Tattoos' open trousers. What he really needed to do was to make Crucifix let go of his arms.

Quivering with bloodlust and a burgeoning need of a different kind, stimulated by the rapid cock-friction against his prostate, he began to struggle forward, nuzzling the hairy groin that bucked in his face. His mouth was watering around his captor's solid, thrusting prick-meat, a delicious apéritif to the blood boiling away inside the horny mortal. A mixture of pre-cum and saliva spilled from Rayne's lips and ran down his chin whilst he struggled to sink to his knees and suck it properly. Crucifix cursed him and took a firmer hold between his legs to keep the little whore from sliding off his dick. Gasping with pain and surprise, the Vampire only wriggled more fiercely until Crucifix gave up and let go of his arms in order to hold onto Rayne's slender hips with both hands. As the tall, humourless rapist tooled him faster the Vampire slid both hands seductively up his oral assailant's thighs, making little appreciative noises as he sucked and swallowed. Tattoos caught hold of them at once, pulling them away but in order to do so he had to let go of Rayne's tangled, black mane. At once, Rayne lifted his head, taking a gulp of fresher air before the guy released one slim wrist in order to push his captive's mouth back down on his glistening, tattooed hard-on.

"No touching!" he panted.

Rayne got his head up far enough to whimper; "But I want to get you off! I want to make you cum in my mouth!"

"You're gonna get a face full soon enough," Tattoos promised gruffly. "Keep sucking me, slut!"

The Vampire let him urge himself deeper and deeper. He had always loved giving head and by now he was so deeply immersed in the web of their vicious, dirty fantasies that he was quite prepared to let them have their way, so long as he got his!

This time, when his deft, cold fingers curled around the blow-job's heavy balls, the skinhead did not try to stop him. He grunted with pleasure and leaned back against the wall, pounding the skilful mouth of their skinny plaything energetically. They were fucking him in almost perfect syncopation by now. Rayne half smiled, the musician in him appreciating the rhythm and the surge of pleasure their pounding tools sent coursing through his nervous system. They were used to working a boy together, this much he could feel. The grunting and groaning intensified both in front and behind and he rode them both now, in synch with their motions; nodding into one hot crotch and grinding his arse back into the other. Crucifix's big, hot penis felt impossibly good in his arsehole and the steady trickle of spunk in his mouth and throat tasted incredible. Even their rough handling of his body left him buzzing with excitement.

His submissive compliance fired them both up and their increasing stimulation fuelled his own arousal to even greater heights. Rayne had been keen for vengeance, but he had not expected to get such a fantastic spit-roasting into the bargain. A low moan began deep in his throat as he started to spurt without even touching himself. His exposed balls felt tight and hot and his cock-head was so stretched and sensitive that the slightest breath of air across his glans was enough to make him cum hard. The river of spunk just kept on coming as he serviced them both.

It certainly got them hot. He felt Tattoos stiffen and groan and those big hairy nuts contracted in his palm as Rayne squeezed and milked them for him. The two rapists moved to their knees together and he was lowered to the ground between them as they began to cum in him simultaneously. Crucifix rammed himself in as far as he could go and swore huskily as Rayne squirmed and moaned astride his lap. Any protest he might have made was stifled by the presence of the other man's spurting cock head pulsing against the back of his throat. Hot, salty spunk pumped down his gullet and backed up into his mouth, dribbling from the corners, down his chin. The hand that gripped his hair tightened briefly at the moment of climax then let go. Behind him he felt Crucifix pull out quickly and heard the wet, slurping sound of the condom being rapidly peeled off before the skinhead ejaculated over his buttocks and bare back. Rayne closed his eyes briefly, sharing the sense of relief, coupled with the cooling trickle of spilt semen on his skin, then rough hands were pulling off his open shirt from behind and discarding it. Just as abruptly, his jeans were tugged off and he was pushed to the ground on his belly, stripped naked.

"What are you doing?" he exhaled, still pretending fear.

"Shut your mouth, or I'll cut your balls off and gag you with them!" Crucifix told him breathlessly. He pulled a bowie knife from within his baggy fitting jacket and showed the gleaming blade to the dark-haired youth on the ground. Rayne let his eyes go wide and fearful and he complied immediately, biting his lips and shivering, as much with the need for blood as anything else (sex always made him hungry, just as feeding invariably left him feeling impossibly randy).

Crucifix spread Rayne's legs and knelt between them, then eased his free hand into the slick of cum between Rayne's arse-cheeks and circled his well-fucked ring with the slippery pad of his thumb. The young man lying beneath him moaned ecstatically as the steady teasing opened up his twitching hole again. Crucifix carried on rubbing and touching for a moment, then firmly inserted two probing fingers into the Vampire as he sprawled naked on the rough stretch of asphalt beneath the bridge. Rayne Wylde closed his eyes, conscious that he was getting hard again as the tall thug frigged and stretched his rectum. He knew that the idea was to remind him of how vulnerable he was. He could guess that he was being warmed up for another bout of sexual humiliation but it felt good so he let the man do it to him.

He was hungry and he was on fire. Tonight he was going to cum and feed until he was utterly sated. So long as he kept his cool, these bastards would pay in blood for their abuse of him.

"'Urry up!" Tattoos urged his friend. "I want a go up his arse before we sort 'im out. And you wanna get 'im to suck your cock. He's a fuckin' natural!"

"He's fuckin' tight, I'll give 'im that!" the other grunted, wriggling a third finger into the young man on the ground between them. "Even after a good hard shag!"

"I reckon he's good for three or four rounds!" Tattoos laughed crudely. "He kept tryin' to snog me though. He's a lyin' little faggot. I reckon he's done this before!" His fingers tangled in Rayne's dishevelled hair and he pulled their victim's face out of the dirt and peered at him. "You're a proper dirty slut aren't you? You like plenty of cock, I'll bet!"